How To Save The World: An Alien Comedy

by Charles Fudgemuffin

  “Two hundred!” Monty blurted out. “It’ll take all day! We were meant to be watching the match later on!”

  “Yeah but maybe, just maybe, Eric’s safety and the survival of eight billion innocent Femlings is maybe a little bit more important than watching the match,” Garth pointed out.

  “Aye, maybe,” Monty conceded. “It is only Norwich, I suppose. He owes us big time for this, though.”

  So then Monty and Garth wasted no further time and got straight down to the task of creating two hundred fake A.T.S. profiles. In the end they went the extra mile and ended up setting up almost three hundred fake profiles, which was probably a lot more than was necessary, but with the massive consequences at stake they decided it was better to go too far than not far enough.

  Then once they had sent Eric a friend request from the fake fit lass, who they decided to call Stella Gascrom, they then decided to take shifts sitting on A.T.S. constantly clicking ‘refresh’ waiting for Eric to add Stella Gascrom as a friend. Then the moment she was added they would then instantly send Eric a message urging him to change his password and also suggesting that he give Jixyl and Azleev some patter about someone having possibly seen him type his password so he’d changed it just to be on the safe side.

  And then once his password was changed, and Jixyl and Azleev were no longer able to access his account, then they would warn him of the dangerous position he was in.

  Garth, who had volunteered to take the first shift, clicked ‘refresh.’ There was no change. Eric apparently hadn’t logged in yet. Stella Gascrom was not yet added as a friend.

  He clicked ‘refresh’ again. Still no change.

  “This could take a while,” he commented.

  “Hopefully he’ll log in soon,” Monty remarked, optimistically.

  “Yeah,” Garth agreed. “Come on, Eric. Log in. Come on. Eight billion Femlings are depending on you.”

  He clicked ‘refresh’ once again. Still no change.

  So he kept clicking. And kept on hoping. Hoping that they weren’t too late and that Eric hadn’t already unleashed the Telix-17 virus upon the Femling population.

  Another click. And still no change. “Come on, Eric. Log in soon. And please don’t have snogged any lasses yet.”

  Another click. All Garth could do was keep on clicking.

  And keep on hoping.

  Chapter Ten – Code Names

  “I tell you what’s weird,” Eric mused to Kesta as they lay on Ko Pagna’s Sunrise Beach enjoying the sun.

  “What?” Kesta inquired.

  “Topless beaches,” Eric replied.

  Kesta looked slightly bemused. “‘Weird’ isn’t the word I’d use to describe topless beaches,” he remarked. “‘Very pleasant’ is the word I’d use.”

  Eric decided to overlook Kesta’s poor counting skills. “Well, aye. They’re pleasant,” Eric agreed. “But I didn’t really mean topless beaches. I meant more the origin of topless beaches. Like, who invented them? And, like, what was his patter? Was he, like, ‘Nar, honestly. It’s alright. You can get your baps out and it doesn’t count cos it’s on a beach.’”

  Kesta chuckled.

  “And then, like,” Eric continued, “were the lasses, like, ‘Ar, alright, then. I’ll get my baps out … as long as it doesn’t count.’ I don’t understand the logic behind it.”

  “Eric, you don’t have to understand it,” Kesta replied. “You just have to enjoy it.”

  “Well, aye. I do enjoy it,” Eric acknowledged, “but does it not seem weird to you? Like, you see that lass over there walking to the fruit shake stand?” Eric subtly nodded towards the lass in question. “Well she’s had her baps out for the last half hour and then when she goes to the fruit shake stand she puts her bikini top back on.” Eric performed a theatrical shrug to indicate his lack of comprehension of the lass’s behaviour. “Like, eh? Like, where’s the logic in that? Like, is she thinking, ‘Oo, I don’t want people to see my baps while I’m at the fruit shake stand, but when I’m lying on the beach and when I was splashing about in the sea earlier on, then no worries. I’ll happily get my baps out then.’ Like, I can’t understand her way of thinking.”

  “Eric mate, you need to re-evaluate your priorities,” Kesta advised. “When most blokes see a fit lass with her baps out on the beach they don’t come out with a psychological evaluation of her motivations. They just think, ‘Mmm, she’s nice.’”

  “Well, aye. So do I,” Eric replied. “Especially those three lasses over there by the volleyball court…”

  “Aye, I’d noticed them as well,” Kesta observed.

  “…but all I’m saying is I just don’t understand the principle. How is the beach okay for bap revealing and the fruit shake stand isn’t?”

  “It’s just social etiquette,” Kesta suggested. “It’s okay on a beach but the fruit shake stand is off the beach.”

  “Only by about a metre,” Eric pointed out. “What’s wrong with having your baps out just cos you’re a metre off the beach?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s just not the done thing,” Kesta explained. “Like, you’ve got your top off now, but if you went for a job interview you’d wear a shirt.”

  “Aye, cos I wouldn’t get the job if I had my chest out,” Eric contended. “Well … unless it was a pervy woman doing the interview, mebbees. But anyway, what I mean is, if she’d gone to buy a fruit shake with her baps out the fruit shake dude wouldn’t have gone, ‘No! I refuse to serve you until you cover yourself up, young lady!’ He’d have gone, ‘Here’s your fruit shake. That’s forty credits please,’ and then thought, ‘Mmm, nice baps.’”

  “Well maybe that’s just it,” Kesta proposed. “Maybe she doesn’t want the fruit shake dude thinking, ‘Mmm, nice baps.’”

  By now the lass in question was back at her towel and already had her bikini top off once again. “Well, I mean she’s sat about ten metres away from the stand, like,” Eric pointed out. “So, like, if she doesn’t want him thinking, ‘Mmm, nice baps,’ then she should either keep her bikini top on or sit further away.”

  “Would you be happier then if she kept her bikini top on, would you?” Kesta questioned.

  “Nar, course not,” Eric replied. “I’m just saying … it’s the inconsistency I don’t understand. Like, if she permanently had her top on I could understand her logic. Or if she had her baps out all the time I could understand that as well. But, like, baps out on the beach, a metre off cover them up? That makes no sense to me.”

  “Eric mate, so what you’re saying is if all the lasses on the beach kept their bikini tops on all day, you’d understand that, wouldn’t you?” Kesta asked.

  “Aye, they just wouldn’t want to get their baps out,” Eric replied. “Like, fair enough.”

  “But if some lasses get their baps out most of the day and occasionally cover them up, you don’t understand that, do you?” Kesta quizzed.

  “Na,” Eric answered, shaking his head. “It’s completely illogical.”

  “Well then … surely that tells you it’s better to enjoy than to understand,” Kesta announced, philosophically.

  Eric considered Kesta’s words for a moment, then a smile appeared on his face. “Wise words, Kesta. Wise words indeed.”

  At that moment Hex strolled up. “Alright, how’s it going?” he greeted.

  “Eric’s just been whinging on about lasses getting their baps out on the beach,” Kesta joked.

  “Nar, I haven’t,” Eric quickly corrected. “I’ve just been saying I don’t understand the inconsistency of lasses sometimes. Like, I tell you what else I don’t understand…”

  “Here we go again,” Kesta smirked. “This’ll be another one of your psychological analyses, will it?”

  “Well, just an observation,” Eric replied, before adding, “Why do lasses sunbathe topless in the shade?”

  “I have to admit I’ve wondered that as well,” Hex agreed.

  “Aye, it’s weird, isn’t it?” Eric remarked, l
ooking smug that Hex had agreed with him. “Like, there’s no logic to it.”

  “Eric, I’ve already told you,” Kesta commented. “Don’t worry yourself trying to understand the logic. Just enjoy.”

  “I know but they’re not gonna get a tan lying in the shade,” Eric pointed out. “So what’s the point in getting their baps out? Like, surely the only reason to get your baps out in the shade is so that dudes can perv on you.” Eric shrugged theatrically. “Unless I’m missing something.” For a brief moment Eric had a pang of paranoia as he considered for a moment the possibility that maybe he was missing something and that maybe on Fem the laws of physics and biology relating to suntans were different from on Earth. By Kesta and Hex’s relaxed body language, however, he soon realised that suntans on Fem followed the same rules as on Earth.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Kesta admitted.

  “Anyway, much as I enjoy talking about baps, what’s the plan for tonight?” Hex asked, changing the subject.

  “I thought we were going to the pool party,” Kesta remarked.

  “Yeah, but I mean, what time are we setting off?” Hex clarified.

  “Do you not fancy going to The Hang Out Club first for a bit?” Eric suggested.

  “We go there every night, man, Eric,” Kesta whinged. “I thought we were all up for the pool party for a change of scenery.”

  “Yeah, we’ll definitely go to the pool party,” Eric agreed, “but it’s not meant to start kicking off until about fourteen o’clock[75], so I thought mebbees we could go to Hang Out earlier on for an hour or so, and then head over to the pool party at fourteen o’clock.”

  “How come you’re so keen to go to Hang Out, like?” Hex inquired.

  “Well, just, like ... whatever,” Eric shrugged, trying to appear indifferent either way. “It’s just an idea … but, like, whatever.”

  “It’s cos there’s this new lass that he fancies,” Kesta revealed, “and he’s stalking her.”

  “I’m not stalking her,” Eric defended. “If she hung out at Rapid and I said let’s go to Rapid, that would be stalking her cos I would never go to Rapid otherwise. But I like Hang Out in any case so it’s not stalking if I go to Hang Out. It’s just going to my favourite club which, coincidentally, she likes as well.”

  “So what happened to Appa Hat?” Hex quizzed.

  “But in any case, she’d never go to Rapid anyway though,” Eric continued, ignoring Hex’s question, “cos she’s far too cool to be into crap music like that.”

  “So what happened to Appa Hat?” Hex repeated.

  “Ar, well, she’s still excellent as well, like. But, I think she’s gone home now so, like … well, there’s no point fancying someone who isn’t here,” Eric shrugged. “And, like, I’ve just noticed recently that I’m totally into Sveltish Indie Chick now. I’m just sort of a bit fickle, I suppose.”

  “Sveltish Indie Chick? Is that this new lass’s name, is it?” Hex asked.

  “Aye,” Eric nodded.

  “So who is she, then?” Hex inquired.

  “She’s just this totally cool Sveltish lass that hangs out at Hang Out,” Eric revealed.

  “Sveltish? Well that narrows it down to about two hundred lasses,” Hex replied, sarcastically.

  “And she’s an indie chick,” Eric elaborated. “That’s where her name comes from … Sveltish Indie Chick. It’s cos she’s Sveltish and she’s also an indie chick.”

  “Hey, that’s genius, that, like,” Kesta sniggered, mocking Eric’s lack of creativity when coming up with code names.

  “Ar, and she’s got her bottom lip pierced twice,” Eric continued. “One on either side.”

  “You should have called her ‘Sveltish Indie Chick With Her Bottom Lip Pierced Twice,’” Kesta suggested. “That would have been even more genius.”

  “Ar, if only I’d thought of that sooner,” Eric joked.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen her,” Hex remarked.

  “You will have done, like,” Eric insisted. “She’s totally cool. Like, totally cool. Like, you probably wont believe uz when I say this but, like, seriously, no lie … she’s probably even cooler than me!”

  “No way!” Hex replied with exaggerated enthusiasm and a smirk on his face.

  “You’re just being ridiculous now, Eric,” Kesta added, going along with the joke. “Surely no-one could be cooler than you!”

  “I know. That’s what I thought,” Eric smiled, “but it looks like I was wrong. Seriously, I think she’s actually even cooler than me!”

  “Anyway, I don’t mind going to Hang Out for a bit first,” Kesta agreed, “as long as we definitely go to the pool party later on.”

  “Ar, yeah. Definitely,” Eric affirmed.

  “And as long as you promise to talk to Sveltish Indie Chick this time,” Kesta added.

  “So you haven’t even talked to her yet, then?” Hex exclaimed.

  “Well, nar,” Eric shrugged.

  “Well I thought you were saying you totally liked her,” Hex remarked.

  “I do,” Eric replied. “That’s why I haven’t spoke to her. Like, if she was just averagely fit then I could talk to her canny easily. But she’s, like, totally lush so that just makes it totally hard for uz to talk to her.

  Like, the psychology of my brain is totally rubbish cos the level of my bottling-it-ness increases exponentially in direct proportion to the fitness and coolness of the lass. And Sveltish Indie Chick is, like, the coolest lass in Ko Pagna by totally miles so, like, my bottling-it-ness level is, like, totally sky-high.”

  “That’s why you need to hit the diquintenol,” Kesta suggested. “Trust uz. Your bottling-it-ness level goes down in direct proportion to the amount of DQ you drink … to use your terminology.”

  “Ar, I know,” Eric agreed. “But I’ve told you, I’ve never scored sober. It’s just something I need to do to prove to myself I can do it.”

  “Well at the moment all you’re doing is proving to yourself that you can’t do it,” Kesta pointed out.

  “Well I’m definitely gonna try and talk to her tonight,” Eric replied, although secretly he suspected that he would more than likely bottle it once again.

  “Anyway, I was just gonna get some scran,” Hex suggested, “so are yous stopping in the sun or are yous coming for some food?”

  “Scran sounds good,” Kesta replied. “Mr.J’s?”

  “Mr.J’s sounds good,” Hex agreed.

  “I’m gonna head back to my room,” Eric remarked.

  “Woah! Are you not feeling well?” Kesta joked. “It’s not like you to knock back food.”

  “Aye, I know but I need to check my A.T.S.,” Eric explained.

  “You can check that anytime,” Kesta pointed out.

  “Aye, but it’s just that I haven’t logged in for a couple of days so I want to get up-to-date,” Eric remarked.

  “No worries,” Hex replied. “Will we meet you at thirteen o’clock then, at Hang Out on the steps?”

  “Aye, sounds good,” Eric agreed. “But hang on a sec cos I might as well walk with yous to Mr.J’s. It’s on the way anyway.”

  So they packed up their towels and Kesta and Hex headed to Mr.J’s, whilst Eric tagged along on his way back to his room to check his A.T.S.

  On his way to potentially discovering the truth about Jixyl and Azleev and the innocence and harmlessness of the Femlings.

  . . . . . . .

  Meanwhile, Azleev was at that very precise moment checking his A.T.S. account himself. More specifically, he was at that very precise time reading Jixyl’s Supermail message to Stymer, which he had also inadvertently sent to twenty randomly selected friends, one of which was Azleev.

  ‘Eh? What’s Jixyl sent me this for?’ Azleev thought to himself, and then it began to sink in. ‘Shit! He’s sent it to twenty randomly selected friends! Shit! We could be in deep crap here!’ Azleev quickly scrolled down the recipient list and hoped for all his worth that Eric wasn’t one of the randomly selected friends. To h
is relief, he wasn’t, but to his horror he discovered that Monty was. “Shit! It’s gone to Monty as well!” he exclaimed. “Ar, shit! What a dipshit[76] Jixyl is!” Azleev shook his head in panic and disbelief. “I don’t believe this,” he muttered. “Why couldn’t he just send a normal message? Everyone knows Supermail is as dodgy as a virus. Ar, shit! This could be all our hard work down the drain cos of that chump.”

  Once Azleev had finished with his little rant, he set about finding out whether it was indeed all their hard work down the drain cos of that chump. He quickly logged out of his account and into Monty’s account using Monty’s password which, as Garth had correctly surmised, he had easily memorised when Monty set up his account.

  He was relieved to discover that Jixyl’s message was as yet unread. Of course, this wasn’t conclusive proof that Monty hadn’t read it. He could quite easily have read it and then clicked on ‘mark as unread’ to make it appear like he hadn’t read it yet.

  But all the signs were that Monty hadn’t been into his account for a couple of days, and when Azleev checked the ‘User Log’ screen[77], the last log-in time and date seemed to confirm that it was a couple of days since Monty had last logged into his A.T.S. account, and therefore Jixyl’s monumental cock-up was not, as yet, catastrophic.

  However, the Supermail message still needed to be erased from Monty’s account and this presented a problem. Deleting Jixyl’s message wouldn’t remove all trace of it as its arrival would still be recorded on Monty’s notifications page, together with the first line of the message. So that left only one possible solution. The Supermail message needed to be recalled.

  Azleev therefore had no time to waste. Monty could log in at any time and so it was imperative that Jixyl recalled his Supermail message as a matter of urgency.

  So Azleev tried to call him, but for some reason there was no answer. So then he sent him a text. And then he also sent him an A.T.S. message, by normal mail, not the rather inappropriately named Supermail. Then he tried to call him again but once again there was no answer.